Life After Death
by Lunar Disguise
Summary: Arthur Kirkland had been dead 365 days 10 hours 11 minutes and 3 seconds when he moved on. Before then, he gets a glimpse of what happens to the one you leave behind when you die.


Arthur Kirkland has been dead 3 hours 2 minutes and 43 seconds.

Cause of death - pocket change. Though, if one were to read the official report it would be six stab wounds to the thoracic and upper abdominal region. But Arthur prefers pocket change, because that is what the muggers who jumped him wanted. Though perhaps he could go even deeper and say the cause of death was caused when 4 hours 9 minutes and 22 seconds ago he had a fight with his boyfriend. It was one of those big fights, the kind that you feel coming like an impending storm, the kind that by the end of it everything is screaming obscenities at the top of your lungs, not even remembering what it was about. The kind of fight that makes you storm out of said boyfriend's flat, refusing a ride home despite knowing how risky the streets of New York are at night. The kind that you realize how stupid it all is and feel guilty as soon as you walk out the door, but you're just too damn stubborn to turn back. It was the kind of fight that leaves you wallowing in misery, so much so, that you don't see the knife coming. There was no life flashing before his eyes for Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur had been dead for 4 hours 45 minutes and 17 seconds when he was watching the police question locals and tape off the scene.

He had been dead for 4 hours 50 minutes and 2 seconds when they got in contact with Alfred F. Jones, and the man had come running to the scene. This time he was fighting with the officers, desperate to know what happened.

Arthur had been dead for 4 hours 51 minutes and 1 second when it finally broke through to Alfred that he was dead. He watched his boyfriend crumble to the ground, shocked at what had transpired.

Arthur had been dead for 3 days 15 hours 58 minutes and 19 seconds when Alfred was told to take some time off from work. Alfred and Arthur worked within a school. In fact, that's where they met. Arthur attempting to teach an un-bastardized version of English to Americans, and Alfred taught an earth science course going in between the wonders of archeology to the aliens and far reaches of space. Alfred was a passionate teacher, full of energy and connecting with his students in a way that Arthur always admired. But not that day, he couldn't keep it up, and after nearly having a break down in the middle of class the principal told him to take time off to recuperate and to come back when he was ready. A generous offer, Alfred accepted it without protest.

Arthur had been dead for 7 days 16 hours 22 minutes and 59 seconds when a funeral was held. More people came than he would have ever believed, and were more upset that he would have ever imagined. Flocks of people clad black attire and somber faces spread throughout the room. Some were crying, some telling stories, even some drinking heavily, and all there for him. His family huddled close together in the corner recently flown in from across the United Kingdom for their wayward member that had moved to the states; friends spread throughout talking with each other, doing their best to remember Arthur fondly, and acquaintances looking a bit uncomfortable with it all but still making an appearance. And there, leaning against the wall with a drink in his hand, was him. Dressed in somber black with his twin at his side. Normally, even with their blond hair slicked back, in matching black suits, you could tell the difference. Matthew was the quiet, collected one, and Alfred was ever the boisterous loudmouth. Not today, however, today Alfred was the quieter one. A distant look in his blue eyes, as if he wasn't truly all there, and slumped shoulders, he was clearly miserable as he stared into his glass. Arthur watched as his mother in a fit of hysterics walk over and stood in front of Alfred. He sluggishly lifted his head and was about to say something when she slapped him right across the face. Arthur winced, clearly his mother blamed Alfred. It wasn't his fault. Not really, but perhaps his mother needed someone to blame. Alfred didn't even try to defend himself, he remained still and quiet long after his mother was pulled away by Arthur's brothers. All Arthur could do was watch.

Arthur had been dead for 11 days 4 hours 8 minutes and 56 seconds and wished that he could apologize to Alfred. He watched as he former boyfriend spiraled into guilt. No doubt going over the final words, the horrible names, that had escaped from his lips before Arthur died. Alfred was a disaster. Locked in his flat, he refused to answer the phone and ignored the pleading knocks at the door, he would stare at nothing slumped over on the couch. Arthur wished he could tell him to forgive himself. That it wasn't his fault. He wished he could tell him that he was sorry for the fight, and in turn, he forgave anything the other had said. He wished he could tell Alfred off in that way of his, what seemed like insults were more like hidden affection. Never really meaning what he said. Tell the git to get off his arse and go outside. That no matter what the other man thought, Ben and Jerry were not his friends, and to at least turn on the lights, or move to the bed instead of crying himself to sleep on the couch. But Arthur Kirkland was dead. He couldn't say a word.

Arthur had been dead for 19 days 11 hours 45 minutes and 22 seconds when Alfred's brother had finally started dragging him out of the house. Even cleaned up, Alfred still looked as miserable as wet cat, but it was a start. At least he attempted to smile. They started off small. Taking him to grocery store to restock his house, and then moving further to activities like movies and parks. Matthew would try cheering him up with small jokes, gentle smiles, and soft words. "You can't be depressed on swings, unless you aren't swinging." Alfred would smile, it wasn't complete, it was still a bit broken, but it was a start. Arthur admired Matthew's patience and love for his brother during that time. Matthew's gentle touch was the best thing for Alfred right now. He was a bit sad that he wasn't there, but that was okay, he told himself it was okay. It wasn't really, but telling himself that was a start.

Arthur had been dead for 31 days 16 hours 22 minutes and 32 seconds when he was working again. Students welcomed him back with enthusiasm, and Alfred did his best to put on a happy exterior. It was fake and not as energetic as usual, but it set the students at ease. Even when he caught the whispers talking about the 'incident' and the other man, Mr. Kirkland's, death that broke Mr. Jones, he would stiffen, hands shaking, but continue. That's how life is, Arthur mused. You have to move on eventually. But Alfred hadn't quite yet. Despite how well he seemed on the outside, Arthur still watched him cry at night.

Arthur had been dead for 121 days 20 hours 39 minutes and 12 seconds when Francis decided to stick his overly-large, pompous frog nose into things. He was an old, even dead Arthur would never truly admit this, friend of both Arthur and Alfred. He had, with Alfred's other friends, tried to cheer up Alfred before. Taking him out for drinks and attempting to help him move on. For someone who claimed that because he was French he should be the perfect love matchmaker, he sucked at actually matching anyone up. Maybe Arthur was just biased. To him each person that was introduced to Alfred was a weak attempt, and even Alfred seemed to agree, because he never perused any farther. Arthur didn't think it was possible to feel this guilty and happy at the same time.

Arthur had been dead for 285 days 16 hours 53 minutes and 35 seconds when Alfred bumped into her causing an explosion of papers. 285 days 16 hours 54 minutes and 5 seconds when he decided, he didn't really like this girl. Alfred helped her pick up the papers stumbling out apologies. She berated him, lecturing him on how to walk without crashing into poor girls. 285 days 16 hours 56 minutes and 22 seconds when he decided he almost definitely didn't like her. Alfred chuckled softly, saying she sounded like someone he knew, before frowning at the memory. She in turn huffed, but her expression softened somewhat and told him that perhaps they should have lunch together as an apology for scattering her work around. 285 days 17 hours and 52 seconds Arthur decided he didn't like this girl at all. Alfred actually smiled and agreed.

Arthur had been dead 300 days 13 hours 42 minutes and 42 seconds and he watched Alfred become friends with the girl. Petite blonde, her long hair tied up in pigtails, she had sharp green eyes and an even sharper wit. Glasses perched on her straight nose and it looked as if she hardly smiled. Arthur was sure she was actually a horrible person, but perhaps he was just a bit petty. Not that he'd admit it. Not that he had anyone to admit it to. Just, Alfred started spending more time with her. They talked often, days passing. Lunches together, exchanging numbers for texts and nightly phone conversations. She was an author he learnt, or at least an aspiring one. She was from England, had come for a change of pace, she too saw English as a beautiful language when done right, which she believed was uncommon in the states, and she had a pretty smile on the rare occasions he could draw it out. In her, Alfred saw Arthur, but more. In her, he saw hope of life going on. But, despite the protest of Francis and his friends, it never went further, and Arthur knew why. In that sickening feeling, he knew. It was because of him.

Arthur had been dead 360 days 10 hours 9 minutes and 49 seconds and he saw Alfred isolate himself again. He was quieter at work, he stopped going out with his friends, and his phone was set to silent. Arthur watched as Alfred seemed to revert to the way he was before, looking at photos and having imaginary conversations. Arthur listened to him, responding even though it wouldn't be heard. And if he wasn't already dead, it would be killing him inside.

Arthur had been dead 363 days 22 hours 42 minutes and 36 seconds listening to Alfred talk to him again when she found him. He was on the swings when she appeared, taking the one next to him without a word. He looked at her surprised and she looked at him waiting. After awkward like small talk and him telling her the swing theory, he took a deep breath and told her everything- how he had loved Arthur, how he blamed himself for the fight, for his death, and how it was like with him gone. This was the first time he was so honest and open since his death; it took Arthur by complete surprise. Even more so, that she listened quietly to the whole thing, and when he was done, when he broke down, she held him in her arms while he cried. Arthur turned away, unable to watch.

Arthur had been dead 365 days 8 hours 10 minutes and 3 seconds when Alfred laid a rose on his grave. He stood there, quiet for a moment as he felt the breeze flow gently around him. Then he talked. Arthur listened to it all. It was different from the one sided conversations that Alfred had before, it was more thoughtful, more personal, and more deep. Arthur was touched, deep within him Alfred's words reached, but even more so, what he's seen Alfred go through this past year, it all became clear why he watched Alfred. Alfred wasn't the only one that had difficulties letting go. He watched as she came to his side, for she had been waiting quietly a short distance away during this time. She laid a rose down, wishing quietly that she'd known such a man that Alfred had loved and admitted quietly that she was jealous that she would probably never get the same love. And she was both right and wrong, Arthur mused, for Alfred might never love her the same, but perhaps, with some time, he would indeed love her. It was time for Alfred to move on, to have someone to take care of, and someone to take care of him. And it was time for Arthur to move on. So he turned around and walked away from this world, because life keeps going even when you're gone.

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><p>R&amp;R<p>

I don't own Hetalia


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